The Princess' Prince Charmings
by ChronicallyinFlaming
Summary: Written for the dragonball kink meme. An argument breaks out between Yamcha, Bulma and Vegeta over who's with whom, and the ultimately decision is to get drunk and share. Blame Bulma's mother. And Disney.


Written for the dragonkinkmeme

The prompt:

_Vegeta/Bulma/Yamcha; threesome._

_Since they can't seem to agree on who has who, they might as well share. (Super bonus points if any Yamcha/Vegeta has Yamcha being a total dom.)_

I got super bonus points.

* * *

What happened was something they could never fully blame any of each other on. Later, much later when they could think of that night without spontaneously vomiting or wanting to kill themselves, it was Bulma's mother's fault.

If she hadn't come in with all that beer, it never would have happened.

If she had stayed in the room longer, it never would have happened.

If she hadn't given birth to Bulma, it definitely would never have happened.

And yet they couldn't punish the smiling blonde woman without admitting what had happened.

For the next month, they completely had to avoid each other. For Yamcha, this was easier, as he lived across town, even when he would accidentally walk into a familiar blue-head of hair and would be forced to run in the opposite direction. Sure, awkward, but doable.

Bulma and Vegeta however lived at Capsule Corp together. She would bar herself in her bedroom, only to be undone by the call of the lab, and when she barricaded herself inside, she would miss her feather dearly enough to come out and run into Vegeta in the hallway.

And no matter how many times Vegeta would flee into the safe black vacuum of space to nearly die: what came up would have to come down.

Then they would be forced through a terrible dinner where neither would say a single word. If they touched hands when passing butter, their faces would change into expressions as though they'd just witnesses a child being torn to pieces.

Once, when this happened, Bulma burst into tears while her parents looked on with confusion, and Vegeta literally fled the room. His chair clattered to the linoleum covered kitchen. He didn't spare a second glance behind him as he tore open the back door to continue fleeing.

"Bulma dear, what happened?"

"I don't. Want. TO TALK ABOUT _IT MOM_!"

* * *

What happened was that they got drunk (because of Bulma's unending supply of alcohol) and did something they would forever regret. When they finally died and were awaiting judgment (in Bulma's case, dragged kicking away from King Yemma's desk, screaming "No, I_ just_ finished out how to make a gasoline powered toaster!"), they would look at his huge pink-red face with the mustache larger than their arms. They would look up at him, going down the list of their accomplishment, and that short pause and double-take would cause them to stare downward.

"What? You did _what_?"

"_How did you even_…?"

Only Bulma asked, as she drove a heel into one of the helper's eyes, if what they had done could get them sent to heaven or hell.

* * *

What happened was, things were chaotic in their personal lives, and the addition of alcohol only made things worse. For some bizarre reason, they all felt that getting drunk, especially together, might make certain truths easier to bare and bear.

Bulma and Yamcha were sort of on a break. "I hate you," she had shrieked at the end of their latest date, her huge blue teddy bear ("It matches your hair." "Aw, Yamcha") still held under one arm. Then she had thrown a trophy her father had won back in his college days eighty years ago. It narrowly missed a sleeping Vegeta's head, crashing into a window, and the glass falling onto his face and hair awoke the Saiyan Prince.

"What is _this_?" He held up the tiny gold figure that had perched atop the statue, but obviously demanding a larger answer.

"What are _you _doing here?" Yamcha had actually yelled, his temper breaking for the first time with Vegeta. Normally they had a nod, hey, I hate you too relationship. Both of them were also irked and were irked by Bulma. A common bond that kept them from arguing or Vegeta killing him again.

"He lives here, stupid." Bulma grabbed another trophy.

"But why? There has to be someplace else."

"What, with his own kind? Snakes don't like him. I know; I tried to feed him to them before."

Vegeta narrowed his black dead eyes at her. "I _knew_ those anaconda didn't just crawl into my bed."

"OH! So you know where he sleeps!"

Bulma looked confused. "Of course I do. You can hear him snore down the block even."

"You know what he sounds like snoring!"

Now even Vegeta looked confused. Normally he did his best so creep out of the room when they fought. He would literally put his back against the wall and slid along it to the nearest exit. Once he'd been forced to crawl on his hands and knees past the living room to avoid a horrible, horrible bicker on the size of Bulma's breasts. Or throw himself out of a window, to shoulder roll down a small grassy hill that stained his clothes and would get him yelled at later. Or through an air duct, dust and spider webs trailing behind. But that tiny gold statue in his hair was the final straw.

Something about the shade reminded him of what might be, could be, never was to be.

"Is this the guy? Is this why things are different?"

"Nothing's different. That's the problem! Wait. What did you say?"

Yamcha looked her deep in the eyes, looking for the truth. "Are you and Vegeta in a relationship?"

Both Bulma and Vegeta began laughing hysterically. Their faces turned red, and their eyes nearly swam with tears. They clutched the furniture to keep from falling over. Neither had laughed so hard since Chi-Chi had gone after Goku with a broom during a barbeque, attempting to murder him with it. While everyone else had tried to calm the woman down, all Bulma and Vegeta had done was laugh and laugh harder when Goku was shoved into the fire pit.

"Oh my god. _What_."

"You're a fool, human."

"Me and Veggie?"

"Like I would stoop to lay with that loud mouthed wench."

Their smug amused looks were startling similar. Way too similar. It made Yamcha's skin crawl. That little voice in his head that spoke up to say casually, 'hey, you should dodge this', or 'hey, maybe Bulma isn't the one' started to scream. 'Get out, get out! Look at them. They _should_ be together. They're both terrible! They deserve each other!'

They even crossed their arms the right way. And everything made sense. My god. The only people who could totally be with Bulma and Vegeta were themselves. Each other.

They could look at themselves in the mirror while making scowls and doing their hair. Together.

They could make fun of everyone else's flaws, then coo over their own accomplishments. Together.

They could have the stupidest, most asinine arguments over the tiniest things. Together.

They could create a dysfunctional self-destructive relationship full of mean-hearted glee and delight at other's misfortunes and cover up each other's personality gaps. Together.

They could give birth to a child and name it Schadenfreude.

Yamcha heard himself actually gasp.

Their faces dropped in confusion the same exact way.

"What?" They asked simultaneously.

"You know Bulma," he said in a toneless voice that disturbed the other two people. "You should be with him."

Now he _really_ disturbed them.

"Yamcha! Jeez."

"What's wrong with you?"

"No, you should."

"Stop saying that human!"

"Yamcha! No. Don't _say_ that. I can change!" She grabbed her boyfriend. "I'm sorry. I am."

"But don't you see?" The baseball played held out his hands, indicating both the Saiyan prince and the multi-trillion dollar company owner. "You two would be perfect together."

Vegeta was completely unnerved. "Stop it. Stop it."

Bulma was wiping her face. Her perfect makeup was being smeared. "Yamcha. Come one. There's no call for this." With her dripping mascara, she looked beautiful and sexy and so pathetic.

"You two would make each other happy. Or unhappy. But…I don't know." His heart seemed to be squeezed in his chest. Like his lungs were trying to kill him.

"Yamcha, just sit down and think what you're saying."

Vegeta actually grabbed him by the shoulders and led him to the couch. Bulma fluffed pillows. Vegeta fixed the air vent so that cool air fell onto Yamcha's face, a nice thing in the summer month. Bulma rubbed his back and called him 'baby.' They both yelled for Bulma's mother to wake up and get them all drinks.

"Let's talk this out."

"Why would you say that, Earthling? WHY?" The extra pillow the Saiyan had retrieved was twisted in his gloved hand.

"Don't yell at him," Bulma screamed. "He needs to relax. Obviously he's having a nervous breakdown."

Finally, Bulma's cheery despite the half hour of sleep came out. She flirted with Yamcha sweetly and innocently after Vegeta and Bulma had shoved the tall fighter out of the way to get their drinks. Both had whiskey straight and neat. They refilled each other's glasses, and Yamcha rolled his eyes while clutching his newly bruised ribs.

The next bottle was held in her grim, white-knuckled grip. "Get out of here, Mom. Now."

Vegeta emptied another glass with the same unsmiling expression as the scientists. Bulma's mother left with a soft cry over Vegeta's muscular arms, pinching his behind. The Saiyan hardly blinked; he had his eyes on the other two people in the room.

"You need to tell us what's wrong." Bulma stroked his arm. "Don't you love me anymore?"

The Saiyan thrust a glass at Yamcha. "Have a drink."

The taller man took it, and held his soon-to-be ex's hand. "I do love you."

"Then why would you say that?"

Yamcha took a sip of his drink. Then he winced at the taste even as it washed away the bitterness in his mouth. "It makes sense."

"No it doesn't."

His eyes fell closed for a second. Even their voices seemed to be becoming one.

"I swear, I will kill you again."

Bulma started hitting him with a freshly fluffed pillow stolen from behind Yamcha's back. "Shut up!"

"We can't be together, Bulma." Yamcha finished his glass, and was quickly refilled by Vegeta.

"Yes, you can," the prince ordered. Sweat gathered on his long brow. "You can't leave me with her. I… need buffers."

"Shut up! Both of you. Like either of you are so great." She refilled her own glass.

Vegeta motioned to her, wildly, unsteady already on his small booted feet. "You see. You can't break up with her." He pointed to her breasts with an empty bottle. "She has these. She lets you see these things. You should be with her. And these things."

Bulma turned with amazing precision to nail Vegeta in the groin with her own bottle.

Yamcha rubbed a temple. "You two will be happy together."

"You make me happy." But even Bulma had to pause to remember those occasions. Behind her, Vegeta was still wincing and touching himself. "Sometimes."

She held her hands out, either to embrace or beat him. The bottle was still in her accurate grip. "I love you!"

"I love you too. But that doesn't mean we're good together. We fight all the time-"

"So you want to stick _me with him_?" Bulma shrieked, swinging her hands wildly and nailing Vegeta again, but this time in the head.

"You two can fight, together. Kami, Bulma, we've been together since we were kids, and we still fight. You haven't changed much at all. I can't keep fighting with you; I don't have the energy. I can't change you. You can't change me. We need to find people that will compliment us."

Bulma's red lipsticked mouth moved. "But. No." A dawning realization was growing in her dark blue eyes. "No."

Her gaze fell on Vegeta with horror. "Not him. No. NOT HIM!" She turned to grab Yamcha by his sports jacket. The blue-haired woman shook him, her voice cracking and breaking.

"Please. Tell me he isn't the one. I'm nearly thirty—"

Vegeta gave a fake, hacking cough.

"I need to find someone. I want kids. I want to meet someone and settle down."

Her hands were trembling. "Him? Yamcha…_him?_" She pointed a shaking finger at Vegeta.

"He's my…"

Her voice broke.

"_My prince charming_?"

Vegeta snorted. "Garbage."

Both humans turned to look at him. He sat on Bulma's father's old worn lounger. His face was still haughty and proud. Somehow, despite the ratty fabric, he looked like a King on his throne. "I don't want her!"

"I don't care about any of that fairy tale nonsense about a prince and princess or frogs, or curses or talking silverware. I don't believe in any of that nonsense."

"Vegeta," Yamcha asked carefully. "What are you talking about? 'Silverware'?"

Then the realization came to him like Bulma's. "Did Bulma tell you about that?"

The Saiyan glanced at his boots. The boots that Bulma had made him, measured him for along with the rest of his armor, both of them yelling over her sticking pins in him and yanked at his underwear. Then discovering he was ticklish and torturing him. "Yes. She had movies. 'Animation'. 'Disney' she referred to it as. Childish nonsense."

His voice kept dropping. "Stupid. I didn't_ want_ to watch it."

"Oh please," Bulma spat out. "You loved them. 'Let's watch Beauty and the Beast again'."

"At least that one had a man impaled in it."

"What about the other movies? Didn't you like Toy Story, you monster?"

"That one was the most disturbing. Can you imagine if those dolls your mother collects came to life and rebelled against those stupid dresses she forces them into?"

The scarred ex-bandit looked at Bulma confused. "Why would you tell him about that? Why would you watch movies with him? Kid's movies. Not even violent ones. Were you in the dark together?"

"How else would you watch a movie?" Bulma asked defensively.

"Alone?"

"No one else was there! It wasn't my fault!"

"And talk about prince charmings?"

"It came up in the movies_! He needed context_!"

But her mouth kept moving. Something was definitely dawning in that pale, perfect face. "And I called off one of our dates to do it. We had popcorn. I made _dinner _for him."

"Oh my god," she waved his hands about, wrists limp. "Oh my god, Yamcha, I _called in sick_ to work to do that. We made it an all day event! And that was when we got that defense contract to make those badass robots."

"I have a problem. I _am sick_!"

Yamcha felt like a brilliant detective. "When did you get that haircut?"

Bulma touched her shorter hair, self-consciously. "A little while back. Because Vegeta said I looked like a dandelion and was making him even more allergic to me. _Oh my god_."

She started to cry. Just collapsing right there in her living room, nearly crushing a television remote with her knee. Bulma wept, further mussing her makeup. "What is wrong with me?"

Vegeta was glancing from one of them to the other. Then he had his own dawning realization. "No. Not her."

"No."

"NO!"

"Why did you spend all day with Bulma?"

"I was hungry, tired, and needed to rest. She offered food and darkness, away from her mother. That was enough."

Bulma had a fire burning in her irises. "You bastard. You bastard! If I have to admit being stuck with you, then you have to admit being stuck with me."

"I don't want you!" Vegeta roared. "I want nothing to do with you! You are the beast I am forced to live with because there's nowhere else to go!"

"I gave up _my fins_ to be with you!"

"I wish I could feed you to hyenas!"

"I'm going to shoot you, only there won't be any cute deer to cry over you!"

Yamcha rolled his eyes. "Should I break into a catchy song? We could bring Krillin over to make harmless quips? He was learning to play guitar. We could sing backup while Vegeta serenades you."

"If you were in a fucking 'Disney' movie, you're nose would be even bigger than it is now!"

"Maybe you two should go and have a plate of spaghetti? Did you guys get around to watching Aladdin? Gohan and I just watched that when I was looking after him. Good movie."

"I hate you both," Bulma vowed. "So much."

"No more kids movies!" Vegeta shrieked, before knocking over more of her father's trophies.

"How dare you mess with my Dad's stuff?" She threw a trophy at his head.

Yamcha watched them fight. Thank god he wasn't in this anymore. Thank god. "I'm going to leave now. Don't be afraid to name your kid after me."

They turned their hatred onto him.

"No, you don't get to throw this crap everywhere and leave!"

"You can't break up with me and leave me with Vegeta. Not when we're all drinking. Who knows what I might do?"

Vegeta made a shuddered noise. "Disgusting."

Finally, Bulma toppled over the trophy case. The three adults all stared at the broken silver and gold. "Mom will clean that up later."

"Let's have another drink." Yamcha led them back to the couch. They all sat there, looking at each other and drinking.

The room, already dim, turned even darker when a light bulb burned out and no one got up to change it.

"I was supposed to the other week," Bulma told Yamcha. "But Vegeta lost his sight staring at some solar eclipse or something and I had to be his guide."

"You took me to Son's," Vegeta snapped, on the other side of Yamcha. "Then left me there."

"I took him to the countryside, to a nice farm where he could run free. Lots of fresh air and animals to chase," Bulma assured the taller man.

"Kakarotte hit me with his car."

"What?"

"Don't listen to him. He was happy there."

Bulma rested her head on Yamcha's shoulders. "See, why can't we do this?"

"As friends?"

"More than friends. I've been with you since I was a teenager."

"I know."

"How am I supposed to go on without you? Not that I want to kill myself. I just don't know a life where you're not at least partially my boyfriend. Where will I be without my slutty, eye-wandering rock?"

Vegeta rudely yawned, and was hit in the mouth with a fluffy pillow.

"Does he _really _have to be my soul mate, Yamcha?"

"Oh, he's not too horrible. Sometimes."

The Saiyan glared at them both.

"He did try to save us from Freiza."

The blue-haired woman cuddled closer. "He's still a jackass."

He grabbed and shook Yamcha's sleeve like a little kid might. "I don't want her. Take her back."

"Why can't you just have her?"

Bulma drunkenly leaned forward, keeping one hand on Yamcha's chest for support. "Why don't _you_ take me?"

"Take you where?" Vegeta looked at her suspiciously. "I'm not going back to that carnival."

"Because you threw up?"

He mulled it over, looking for a witty reply. "…yes."

"Jeez, Vegeta it was just the teacup ride."

"It sickened me!"

Yamcha sighed again, soaking in bittersweet juices. He might one day miss Bulma's shrieks and remarks that cut you down to the bone, but not now. The scarred man lightly patted Vegeta on the shoulder carefully to not spook him and have an arm ripped from the socket. "Have fun you two."

"Where are you going?"

"Oh, probably just crash in one of your guest rooms."

"Without asking? That's so rude."

"You have like fifty of them in the east wing alone." His feet tangled into each other when he stood, sending him crashing into Bulma's comfortable lap.

"You're so cute. With that handsome face and that stupid expression." She stroked his cheek.

Besides the scientist, Vegeta looked to be having an aneurism. He looked so unsure of what to say or do, that he became furious. "Stop it. Stop fawning over him. He's weak and has a stupid face. Have some pride, woman."

"You're just jealous."

"I'm glad you're not touching me."

Then Bulma reached out, sneaking a hand behind Yamcha to grab Vegeta's butt. "Oh really?"

He slapped her hand away, evidently making sure not to break any bones. Bulma would have probably attacked him with her teeth if he had. "Stop it. Stop it!"

"Ticklish?"

"Shut up."

"You wuv me."

"See, even when I'm literally in-between you, you guys still flirt."

"I hate both of you. Stop groping me, woman. I get enough of that from your mother."

"Nuh-uh. You're mine now. I get to grope you."

"Stop it. Make her stop, human."

"I'm drunk and rich and beautiful. I can do whatever the hell I want. I attacked a rare endangered species of swan at the park. Did anyone stop me? They tried. And I was brought up on charges. But I was able to pay bail and hire an actress that looked like me to do community service."

Vegeta could only blink at her, in amazement. Soon, this would all be an old hat trick to him. "…Why did you attack a swan?"

"It stole my sandwich."

"Oh. Alright then." He nodded, understanding.

Thank god he wouldn't have to put up with any of this. He could be like the rest of them, able to just leave Bulma and Vegeta's insanity to go home to a quiet apartment. A place where if anything caught fire, it was a big deal, and you could hear someone screaming and crying out for help if they were in danger. Paradise.

Then Bulma started to kiss him. Out of habit more than any lust, he kissed her back. The lipstick was sticky and tasted familiarly of metal. Then there was a hand on the back of his head, way too strong and burning with ki to be Bulma's.

"You give me the woman. Then you make out with her?

"If she'd supposed to be mine, then she can't make out with anyone else."

"Oh, Veggie!"

Vegeta immediately slapped Bulma's grasping hands aside without blinking. "Not that I want to kiss or touch her. But even if I don't, she is still mine."

"You bastard!"

"Vegeta," Yamcha tried to explain. "She's a free woman. Here on Earth, we pride ourselves on being open-minded and fair to everyone. Including Bulma."

The prince gave him a look of disgust. "You have the woman's lipstick on your face."

He gave Bulma way too little attention, allowing her to jump on his lap. They fought, briefly, and it only ended with Vegeta getting his own face covered with lipstick. A pillow was even shoved under his spiky head for support as she attempted to ravish him. Part of the elastic blue fabric covering his legs was ripped in the struggle. "Off me! Off me!"

"I love you both so much." Her eyes were full of tears. She still lied on top of him.

Yamcha sipped his beer thoughtfully. "I forgot booze makes you so weepy."

"I want you both. I can have you both."

"No, you can't, Bulma."

"Yes _I can_, Yamcha."

"No. It's me or nothing. Actually, it's me _and_ nothing. I will give you nothing. Go back to the human."

"I want both of you. Why can't I? I'm not going steady with either of you."

"Bulma!"

"Right now. Yeah."

"'Now'. Oh my god, no, Bulma!"

"Yes. I can have any man I want. Including a big time baseball player, and a goddamn prince from another planet. At the same time."

Vegeta was finally getting it. Panic raised the pitch of his voice. "No woman. No."

"Have another drink, Veggie." And then she upturned the bottle over his face, pouring some of it down his open, shocked mouth, and the rest on his clothes. The couch smelled like it had been on a three week bender, and Vegeta on a five year one.

"Oh look, too bad. You're all wet. You have to undress now. Or you'll get sick."

"I will not! I am immune from your weak Earth germs."

"Yeah, spaceman, whatever you say." She made a noise like she was about to hock a loogie.

"No. No!" He turned his face aside, scrunching it up.

"Okay then." Bulma started to undo his armor. Yamcha was helpless to watch. Would she really get the guy naked? "Hey, Yammy. Help me and you get a turn with him."

Yamcha spat out a mouthful of beer.

"Oh my god." With Vegeta's accent, it actually sounded like a real beginning of a sermon.

His eyes were huge and black. In the dim light, his hair was a very, very dark brown-black. The tanned skin looked smooth, except for the quivering veins and muscles. Yamcha couldn't look away, or not notice those things.

He waved his beer around, spilling it further onto the fabric beneath them. "Hey, Bulma, if you're going to go crazy because I broke up with you, why not just go all out. Invite the others and have a full out _orgy._"

"No," Bulma yanked at the armor, expertly yanking it off. "I wouldn't mind it if Goku was here, but none of the other's."

In the Saiyan's deep shock, he couldn't even fight her off. "You want to mate with Kakarotte?"

"Oh _yeah_. If he wasn't married, I would have totally asked him out."

The prince looked deeply hurt and stunned. "With that third-rate moron?"

"He's very handsome. And _tall_. And no facial scars either."

"Wow," Yamcha said, eyes drifting out of focus. That explained so much. Goku was so lucky to be married to Chi-Chi. If he wasn't, the Saiyan wouldn't have survived past the third date.

"Definitely don't want to sleep with the other guys though. Although I bet Krillin would be great at giving oral. You've seen that mouth of his, right?"

The two men gasped. They tried not to think about what she'd just said clearly. Something inside shrieked and twisted in agony if they did. "You've_ thought_ about this?"

"I guess I'm a better guy than either of you pansies." Then she slapped Yamcha's ass.

Vegeta actually made a move to grab his heart. The other hand scrambled for the damp couch, to keep him from falling to the ground. "The shrimp. You've thought about the shrimp?"

"Sure. We were stuck in a space ship for weeks together. If Gohan wasn't there, and Krillin wasn't a gentleman, who knows what might have happened."

"I had just _died_, Bulma!"

"I had just _killed _him, woman!"

"I was in mourning! And lonely. But even though I walked around in my underwear, Krillin just went to the bathroom every fifteen minutes. A really nice guy. I was so sad I was totally desperate. I might have totally nailed with him while Gohan was asleep.

"Don't tell him any of this, okay?

"It might make things uncomfortable between us."

Yamcha put his head in his hands. Vegeta could only look up at the blue-haired goddess sitting on him.

She clapped, making both of them flinch and jump like she'd threatened to press this button and set the bomb off okay, everyone, _super_! "Okay. Since Vegeta's definitely still a virgin, he goes first. Yamcha, either you get sloppy seconds, or you can go ahead and screw Vegeta. There's lotion in my bedroom, back of the top drawer."

"She's drunk," Yamcha reminded Vegeta, feeling like a used car salesmen. Only a three-hundred thousand miles, and look, it comes with hubcaps. That ticking noise? That was the radio. Leaking oil pan? It was always like that; it's supposed to be like that. "You know what she's like sober."

Vegeta slowly pulled his eyes away from Bulma to meet Yamcha's. Yes, he seemed to say, I do.

"Wow, Veggie." Bulma was squirming on him. "You're okay for such a little guy."

She found another bottle. "Have another drink, Vegeta."

"No-"

But she was already forcing the top of the bottle into his mouth.

The tall man gave up besides them. A part of him just wanted to shrug and go without whatever she said like most of their relationship. You want me to get a tattoo of you on my butt? Sure. You want me to remove it? Okay. Then he went out with a nice girl for a while and had the name on his tattoo changed from Bulma to Cassandra.

Could anyone blame him?

But then he'd eventually crawl back to Bulma's pale fiendish arms. "I'll get the tattoo removed."

Why? Because she was familiar, and there was no sting of rejection? No. No more. He was a new man. Today forth, he would be single and happy. No more dating Bulma. He felt like a man turned sober, going to AA meetings and taking coins for every important anniversary. "I've had a week without any Bulma!" And everyone would applaud. Then he could fully appreciate sunrises, as they wouldn't involve a screeching woman telling him to close the drapes and come back to bed.

Right then, as he understood how much better his life could be even with the threat of the androids looming ahead, Bulma took off her shirt.

Fuck.

"Fuck!" Vegeta yelled.

Bulma laugh maniacally.

In one quick removal of her blouse she had immediately won. The smaller man was so, so right. She had these things and she let them see them. Therefore they would be with her. And these things.

Kami bless him regardless of how many people he had killed, Vegeta tried to get away. He wiggled and kept his eyes low. He almost made it until he tried shoving her off, and his hands went up too high. "No," he whispered, even as his hands moved to cup more of her breasts.

"Oh yessss."

"Come here, Veggie dear. Kiss me."

And just like that, the prideful, strong Saiyan that bowed to no one was lost. He kissed Bulma frantically, inexpertly, and got red lipstick all over his face.

Yamcha might have escaped. But as he stood, the couch creaked and Bulma's hand reached out like Goku catching salmon. She spoke while Vegeta still kissed her, desperate. "Where do you. Think. You're goin. Ing?"

There was no time for any answer.

No time for him.

Bulma pulled him close, moving away from a growling Vegeta to kiss her old boyfriend. "So cute the two of you. Aren't I lucky? Aren't_ you_ both lucky?

"Go get my lotion."

Her breasts were soft and heavy and smooth against his rough face. Her back was silky against his still clothed chest. "No."

"Vegeta?"

"Fuck you."

"Oh, I prefer to think I'll be the one doing the fucking." Amazing how, though effectively sandwiched (not unlike the one that swan had stolen) between two strong men who could have crushed her with one finger, Bulma held all the power. She made Vegeta, the third or second strongest being on the planet, whimper just with single soft thrust of her hips. And he was still in that fucking leotard. And she was still goddamn dressed in everything but her blouse. Including a bra.

He worshiped her. Both he and Vegeta did, praying for her to be sweet and kind to them. Sate us, please, my goddess. They would do anything for her, to her.

"Oh, Yammy?"

Her nipples were a perfect coral pink and slightly erect. They peek over her white bra and nearly made him go blind. Vegeta was straight gibbering nonsense about making her his Queen and making this planet theirs, fuck the rest of the humans; they could find a way to kill Goku. Together. Dude was definitely a virgin. "What, damnit, what?"

"In the kitchen, there's some oil or something. Find it."

"But-" Then she turned and ripped open his shirt with one swift motion.

"I want you to come back, oiled and ready. Hurry up. If I don't see your chest greasy, I will be disappointed." Her pout was pink on ivory. Can't anger the goddess.

Yamcha tripped over smashed pillows on his way to the kitchen. He heard her reassuring the stammering, drunk Saiyan that soon they would have wild monkey fucking. "Too bad you don't have that tail. That might have added some extra fun."

He only ran faster.

Bulma's mother looked him, though her eyes remained close. She was just sitting there at the dining room table.

"Hi ma'am."

Did she know? Could she know? Fuck, how could she even walk around with her eyes closed? She must know.

The tanned man just turned his back on her, forgetting manners or simple human decency in his desperate haste. Cupboards were torn open, dozens of them, dozens more to go. "Where is it, where is it, you motherfuckers!"

Another wrong cupboard. He screamed at the kitchen some more. "Fuckhead! Shithead! Turn you into kindling!"

"There's lotion in the bottom cabinet there, dear."

The curly blonde lady waved goodbye at him harmlessly "Have fun."

She definitely knew.

Fuck.

Yamcha barely spared her a glance. "Thankyou." Then he rushed out of the kitchen with the small bottle.

Vegeta was slowly kissing Bulma's chest, his hands down the back of her pants. Yamcha threw the bottle at his spiky head, then jumped on the couch behind the blue-haired woman. He groped her wherever the smaller man's hands were lacking.

Her blue eyes darted downward. "You're not shiny enough, Yamcha."

"All I could find was lotion!"

"Fine." She rolled her eyes. Then pulled Vegeta's mouth away like he was a baby. There was a sound like suction cups being pulled away, then a grown man's whining cries.

"Now, Vegeta…I want to see that nice body that you clean and dry using my expensive soaps and fancy guest towels."

He really had lost his mind. The Saiyan forgot completely how to undress himself, and had to repeatedly stop to wipe his chin free of drool. Finally, both Bulma and Yamcha had to step in to peel the skin-tight blue suit from him. His small shoes came off with tiny popping noises that made the taller man smile.

"I think he likes you Veggie."

Panic bloomed in both men's eyes.

"Why don't you two…kiss?"

She traced the scar on Yamcha's cheek, weakening him. With Vegeta, all she did was squirm a little on top of him. They leaned forward, mouth brushing lightly before they both pulled away. Yamcha had to wince at the dampness on the other man's lips.

"Not a bad start."

She pulled her ex-boyfriend's hands to her breasts. Underneath her, Vegeta groaned and was all tan well-build muscles. If you avoided his pathetic face, he was just a piece of athletic meat. Tanned athletic meat spread out on the couch, white dimpled ass, thick cock that was darker than the color of his thighs.

If it came down to it, and Bulma really wanted him too…eh. Why not? Really? Why not? If it made Bulma happy, he could find no reasonable complaints. Besides, there was something to screwing the guy who had been responsible for his death and the death of so many into the couch. If he could make Vegeta whimper like he did for Bulma, then it might be worth it.

Even drunk he was, was partially aware of what might come in morning: shame and death and torture and awkwardness.

Then Bulma took off her pants.

Fuck.

"Fuck!"

"Kiss. Again. With _passion_."

There was a tiny voice that said, if you want to make out with Bulma, why are you kissing Vegeta? But then Bulma was biting his ear and Vegeta was sucking on his tongue. A hand slid up his chest to play with his nipples, and another undoing his pants and yes, fuck yes, finally someone was touching his penis.

"Who's doing that?" Someone asked.

"Who cares?"

Another light bulb popped out, though none of them jumped when it did so. Things became even blurrier. Better. He didn't know who was sucking him off, but he did know whose penis was in his own mouth. Simple deduction. Probably. When he was nearly gagging on it, feeling pubic hair against his nose, tickling, that voice popped up again. What if she just slipped off and left you two to go at it? What if she has a camera set up?

But then he heard her muttering something, fuck yes, do that some more. And his fingers were going in places they'd never been, places he didn't even think about except to quietly mutter to Krillin (_oh god, how could she have tainted Krillin's mouth that way)_ that maybe he should have that area looked at since having a stick so far up there couldn't be healthy. There was definitely no stick up there. Until Bulma was grabbing him, leading him how she wanted.

Then Vegeta had his legs up, awkwardly behind Bulma's back. It was the easiest thing to slide his fingers in, especially when the pale woman handed him over the lotion. "Go easy. I don't think he's done this except with that big guy. Nappa."

"Damn you both."

It was difficult. The position was terrible. "Bulma. How about you go under him. Then he could put his ass up."

"Deal with it Yamcha. I'm on top."

He could just barely get the tip in. "Damnit, Bulma!"

"Fuck both of you. This is uncomfortable as hell."

"Really Veggie." Bulma started moving up and down, hands braced on his chest.

"…fuck."

So Yamcha settled for what he could get. He jerked off mostly, cursing them both, asking for more of the lotion, cursing them. But he liked it. He liked seeing Vegeta's funnily pale ass on the still soaked couch, the way he moaned and tightened around what little of his cock Yamcha could get in. When he asked for more that the taller man couldn't give, Vegeta swore to kill both of them for being such teases.

Finally, after no doubt having at least a few orgasms, Bulma started to complain about getting sore. "I know Vegeta can be good for a few times. But my knees hurt."

"Goddamn. I'm still trying to get off over here. Just once."

"Just use your hand."

"I want someone else's hand. Or a mouth. Why can't I get a mouth again?"

"Blow yourself."

"You two are the greediest, worst sons of bitches I've ever had to deal with."

They laughed the same low trollish way. Even now, they were so similar.

"I sucked on you, _Veggie_. At least, I think it was you."

"Okay, human." One of Vegeta's tanned calloused hands reached out for him. "Since you asked so nicely."

"Finally."

Then Bulma was sliding off Vegeta, shoving and kicked Yamcha off the couch.

"What?"

"Go over there. And don't get any on the couch."

"The couch was so pristine, yes." Vegeta sounded dry, and loonily happy.

"No. This is where the dogs slept. Hope you don't get any fleas in your hair, Veg. Or ticks."

Frustrated, Yamcha grabbed Vegeta by the hair. "Open up, prince."

The dark eyes were indignant as he swallowed grudgingly. The sensation was wonderful, especially when Vegeta tried to yell at Bulma with his mouth full. She was sliding down his torso to take Vegeta into her own mouth. Somehow, they both managed to complain as their mouths were filled. "Got lotion all over this."

"You spilled at least three quart of alcohol on it!"

Maybe he was sobering up, but as soon as he was done, he was gone. Yamcha just wanted to get off, and leave this place to never reach its already darkened doorstep again. Maybe he would go over to Master Roshi's, a place neither of these two would near very often. Krillin (_'s mouth._ _damn you_ _Bulma_) would have some jokes, with a few kernels of wisdom in them, and they could spare and talk about how badly they would beat those androids. Or Goku's, where Vegeta would only show up if he was blinded once more and left to die. Then he could watch the other Saiyan hit the prince with his car.

Yamcha stared at Vegeta's dark eyes. For the last time for a solid year, they made eye contact. His steel hard penis slipped from out-between the Saiyan's swollen lips. "Human. I'm warning you, if you are approaching finish-"

When the first whitish stream hit Vegeta's face, he flinched back. Bulma started to laugh, mouth still wrapped around the other man's penis. "Fine, damn you, just do it all over me." Yamcha barely listened, his hands rolling down his dampened leaking cock.

"That was okay." He told himself, over Vegeta's cursing and Bulma's giggling. He collapsed where he'd been standing to watch them.

"Oh no, Veg, I don't swallow for you. You haven't earned it." Then she was milking him all over his shaking sweaty chest and telling him not to get any on the couch.

Before he felt asleep, before morning came and important investors came to the living room to discuss a very important merger and world-changing contract and then just as quickly left, before the head splitting hangover, before her father's shriek as he found them like that, before Bulma began screaming herself when she realized they hadn't used protection and if they had given her a VD there _would be no mercy_…Yamcha had time to mock them once last time, "Did this ever happen in any of the Disney films?"


End file.
